The Guardian's Tale
by DwellInDreams1019
Summary: An ordinary girl from Southampton England lives a boring life, constantly seeking adventure. When she's transported to the magical Narnia, she just might get her wish and find that her destiny is much more than she had ever planned. LWW. Peter/OC Later on


**Hey guys! Ok, so this is my first Narnia FF and it's just kinda a random idea I got and couldn't get out of my head. It's an OC story, which is my main choice of Fanfiction writing, so I hope you like my characters. This focuses mainly on Marjorie, but if this story turns out well and I write sequels, her sister Marion might become an important character as well. :)**

**This chapter may seem a little to the point and fast moving but I hope it's still good! I couldn't really think of any other way to write it. Enjoy! Read and review! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia unfortunately. I only own my OCs.**

Chapter 1

~o~

"Stop it, Marjorie! You're getting me wet!"

I rolled my brown eyes at my prissy twin sister and continued wrapping the fabric of my skirt around my legs to make shorts. My feet were already plunged in the water of the creek nearby my house. When the afternoon spring air was warm as it was today, the icy water of the stream heated just enough to be bearable.

Not like my sister or I had a choice in the matter. On a beautiful day like this, our options were as followed: play by the creek or clean the house with mum and dad. However, I was somewhat convinced that Marion would almost prefer cleaning by the way she acted. But, you know, she'd probably complain even worse if she _was_ cleaning. That's just the type of person she is: a huge whiner. A spoiled brat.

"Oh, get over yourself, Marion," I snapped back, splashing more water at her just to irritate her. She screamed like the water was toxic. Marion and I might have shared our looks—our soft brown hair with eyes to match. However, where her hair reached nearly to her waist and fell down her back in gentle curls, mine was shorter and straight. Our faces were oval-shaped and our eyes almond shaped. Our height was the same with our long necks and legs. We shared our birthday—March 21—and even a room. But we were nothing alike.

"I'm telling mum and dad!" she screeched and stomped off in an overly dramatic fit of rage. I shook my head, running my hands though the cool water.

"We're fifteen, Mare; can't keep running off to mummy and daddy anymore," I muttered bitterly to no one.

I lived a fairly normal, uneventful life. My home was a woodsy location, resting in front of a small forest in Southampton, England. I had a normal father, a normal mother and I guess a normal sister. In general, we weren't a family any more special than other families. The four of us kept mostly to ourselves actually.

I wasn't one to say that my life was perfect. I loved my family…but they were boring. I wanted to travel; to see the world. I wanted adventure, excitement—something different than my everyday life. My father always told me that I was only fifteen, still a child and had my whole life ahead of me—my entire life to be free to go anywhere I wanted. But I didn't want to wait. Is that so wrong?

"Margie! Dinner time!" my mother called from the house. I stepped from the creek and shook the water from my feet. Mother would be terribly angry if I dragged even a drop of water into the house. I ran barefoot to the house, letting my medium brown hair flow in the wind to dry.

"Oh, Marjorie, you're going to puncture your foot like that, running barefoot on the ground!" my mother scolded me. She handed me a dirty old rag, which I used to wipe the excess water from my legs and hair. "_And_ you got your sister soaking wet."

"Yes, well, she brings it upon herself," I grumbled. Mother sighed, fidgeting with my wet hair.

"Yes, that she does," Mother breathed. I smirked.

My family and I washed up before dinner and began our regular family meal, as we did every day. Marion complained about her school and the bratty girls in it (not like she wasn't one herself) and Father discussed business matters with Mother. I picked at my food wearily—Mother's cooking wasn't the best, to be honest.

Father broke our silence. "Children, I have something I'd like to discuss with you." Marion and I looked up immediately at the serious and grave tone within his voice. Father, like me, was an adventurous and optimistic spirit. It wasn't common for him to be depressive, or stern. "This house—well, unfortunately, it will be destroyed."

"What?" my sister and I questioned in shock.

"But why?" Marion said shrilly.

"The residents of this neighborhood kindly volunteered this area to the war efforts, you see. Where we are sitting will soon be a bomb shelter. We will have to leave this house and move to another area. Close by, of course, but it is still going to be a big change," Father explained, trying unsuccessfully to sound happy about this.

"But—Father, you love this house. You wouldn't give it up for anything in the world," I said. My father attempted to send me a smile.

"Sometimes girls, you must provide for the greater good, than for your own."

A melancholy silence fell, where we all pondered his words.

"This is rubbish!" Marion cried out suddenly, and shot from her seat. She stormed up the stairs, her hair, much longer and wavier than mine, flying behind her.

"Marion—"Mother tried to stop her weakly. Mother suddenly seemed to age about ten years, tears forming in her dark circled, gentle brown eyes. Father soothingly embraced her, stroking her soft blonde hair. My heart broke as I watched the scene. I rose from my seat and quietly slipped out the back door.

I reached the creek again, not bothering to fix my skirt as I knelt by the stream. The water I splashed on my face ran down my cheeks with the fresh tears streaming from my eyes. I buried my face in my hand and sobbed. I was born there. I grew up in that house. And we were going to lose it. We were going to lose the house I've known since birth and there was nothing we could do about it.

In the distance, I heard a faint noise. A strange sound. It sounded almost like…like a _lion_. Yes, a faint lion growl was exactly what that was! But, how could it be? I decided I didn't want to waste the time to find out. As I stood, my foot slipped on a loose rock. All my balance was thrown off and I fell backwards into the stream. A sharp sting pierced my right hand. I yelped in pain.

I couldn't budge for a moment in panic; until I realized the creek was not deep in the slightest. Making sure to refrain from using my right hand, I inched slowly from the water onto safe land. I examined my hand, noticing first and foremost the blood that oozed down my arm. In my hand was a huge piece of littered glass, most likely from an old glass of pop or something.

Clutching my bleeding hand, I headed for my house again; slowly at first, but then more rapidly after remembering the faint growl I had heard before my accident. I was surprised to find that my parents had already gone to bed but I was glad that they weren't here to see my wound. All they would do is hover over me and gush over me.

Our medical supplies were in the basement. It had always been there in case of natural disasters or most recently, bomb attacks from the war. We never went into the basement. Only Father ventured there and when he did, it was very occasional. I never asked questions and never entered it. But I knew I needed to enter it now, considering my hand looked as if I had stuck it in a bucket of ketchup.

However, when I cautiously opened the door, I quickly discovered it was not just a basement. First of all, a wave of freezing air and a few sprinkles of snow hit me. As far as I knew, it did not snow inside a house, much less the basement. It wasn't just the few flakes either; inside the basement lay a heavy coating of snow…and trees and…why, not a basement at all! This, as completely mental as it sounded, was a whole other land! I barely even thought it over when I shut the door to my regular world to explore this dreamland.

The sky was clear and blue, as I knew it to be. There were tall mountains in the distance and if you looked very closely, you could even see a castle right in between these mountains! Every inch of this land from the soft ground to the towering pines was littered with crunchy white snow—very odd for the spring time. Then again, maybe it wasn't spring here—wherever here was. The air was fresh and crisp, refreshing my brain and energy when I breathed it in. The pain in my hand had ceased, and when I went to examine it—why, there was no wound at all! It had healed by itself; like magic!

Bells jingled in the distance, causing me to jump about a foot in the air. I looked more closely, squinting to block the sun from my eyes. I had long since grown out of the myth of Father Christmas. I had stopped believing nearly five years ago. But what—or who—I saw could only be described as exactly that. Father Christmas and his sleigh rode directly at me.

The kind old man halted in front of me. He was smiling brightly and there was a twinkle in his eye, just as I always used to read in bedtime stories. A long scraggly white beard moved as he began to talk in a deep merry voice. "We meet at last, child."

"You've…been waiting to meet _me_?" I asked doubtfully.

"But of course! All of Narnia has in fact! The prophecy is finally coming true, with the two Sons of Adam and the two Daughters of Eve's arrival. And now, the Guardian has showed. Oh, what a wondrous day in Narnia!" he said with a hearty chuckled. I was terribly confused, and I'm positive it showed on my face.

"I'm sorry, sir, but what in the world is Narnia? And what prophecy?" I questioned interestedly. Instead of annoyance, he looked as if he'd like nothing better than to explain to me. He threw his hands up, gesturing to everything around him.

"Narnia is everything you can see in distance with your eyes and much, much more. A fabulous land much different from your own inhabited by creatures of all sizes and species; massive lands and divine seas; and a sprinkle of pure magic. But think not that it is everything you hoped and dreamed of—Narnia is ruled by a cruel witch. One which unlawfully seized this land from our true King—the Great Lion Aslan," Father Christmas enlightened. Instantly, I recalled the moment back at the creek when I was nearly positive I had heard a faint lion growling. Did I hear this great King?

Father Christmas continued, "Now—the prophecy states that two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve will enter Narnia, defeat the White Witch, and take the four thrones at Cair Paravel. Who we believe to be the four of the prophecy have indeed arrived. Aslan's already gathered an army!"

"And…am _I_ a Daughter of Eve?" I said carefully. This question seemed a bit stupid to me; my mother's name was Judith!

The man chuckled whole heartedly once again. "Indeed you are human, dear Marjorie. However, you are not one of the two Daughters described. No, for there is another mentioned in the prophecy. One who's destiny is to protect the Sons and Daughters—to watch over them in their quest. Aslan, as well as many others, believe that this valiant Guardian is you."

My brown eyes widened. "_Me_? A _Guardian_? I think there must be some sort of mistake. I can't protect anybody! I haven't any training, any skill! Heavens, I don't even have weapons! I'm just—an ordinary girl from England. You must have the wrong person."

"No, my dearest, I'm afraid not," Father Christmas denied. "You are indeed the fifth human to enter Narnia. You have the necessary personal traits such as loyalty, watchfulness, intelligence and so much more. And I believe I can assist you with weapons." His eye twinkled and he reached into a brown sack resting on top of his sleigh. Presents!

The first thing he pulled from his bag was a brown case attached to a shoulder sling for easy carrying. I hesitantly took it from him and peeked inside. There must have been at least twenty gleaming silver knives with smooth, black leather handles. I recognized them as throwing knives. You were supposed to aim them at targets, similar to bows and arrows.

"And this, in case there is a situation in which the knives cannot be used," he said, withdrawing a beautiful silver sword, fashioned with blue gemstones within the handle. Holding it in my hands, it felt just right, like it was made just for me. A smile formed on my face.

"Thank you, sir," I said gratefully. The man grinned at me merrily.

"You are most welcome, dear one. Now! I think its best we be off—we have to find the others of course! They've got presents too!" Father Christmas boomed, clapping his great hands together, and climbing into the sleigh. I carefully followed.

"Others? As in the prophecy people?" I asked.

"Yes, my child. I sense they are close by. Prepared to go?"

"Yes, sir!"

~o~

**Yeah, well, short…not that good…but I hope you liked it! Review please and tell me if you like! :)**

**~CaptJess :)**


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